


Absolution

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Avon cries, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:07:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4756040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Kathy Hintze</p>
<p>Vila is badly wounded by a Federation commando whose history is connected to the crew of the Liberator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolution

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).
> 
> **Original Author's Notes:**
> 
> Previously published in 'Errantry 2' (multimedia, 1983). 
> 
> Also previously archived at Hammer to Fall.

_Trap!_ Vila's mind screamed as he came round the tree and saw the Federation troops.

Lured by promises of information by the local underground on a top secret project, Blake and his crew had come to Danmyon. The message had been brief, too brief for Avon, who had argued against the idea, as had Vila. But when had anyone listened to Vila?

Avon, Cally, and Blake were meeting with the informer right now. Bored, Vila had wandered away from the rendezvous point and nearly blundered into the approaching troops. He had to warn them and hurried back the way he'd come, raising his wrist communicator as he ran.

"Gan! Gan! Teleport us up quick."

"Vila, what's wrong?" Gan was used to hearing Vila calling for help when there was no need, but the urgency in Vila's voice this time sounded real.

"It's a trap. Federation troops are closing in. Bring us up quick."

Blake and the others came into view then and Vila opened his mouth to yell when something whisked through the night air and struck him in the back. Vila screamed, stumbled forward a couple of steps, and fell to the ground. Cally saw him and started forward, but the teleport field caught the rebels and they shimmered from sight. Vila, however, did not join his companions. His teleport bracelet had been broken by his fall.

#

A shadow crossed Vila's still form and cursed, then looked up. "You failed us, Narr." The speaker was a tall, muscular, blond man who looked to be in his thirties when, in reality, he was nearing his forty-third birthday.

Narr backed away from him in fear. "It wasn't my fault, Jared," he pleaded. "If I had tried to stop Restal from leaving, the others might have suspected something."

"No excuses. You know the Code. Failure is death." Jared nodded and from the dark a flash streaked toward Narr, striking him in the chest. The man cried out once, then crumbled to the ground.

_"You_ must be slipping in your old age, Major," said a voice from the darkness.

Jared turned around. "What do you mean, Micah?"

A lean, dark-haired man emerged from the shadows. "I mean this one's still alive." He nudged Vila with the side of his boot and Vila groaned. "But he won't be for long." Micah reached for the knife intending to finish the job, but the officer stopped him.

"No, leave it." The major thought for a moment. "Take him back to the base. He might be able to provide us with some information."

Micah looked at him and shrugged. "Well, you're in charge."

"That's right, Lieutenant," Jared reminded him. "I am." As the junior officer turned to follow his instructions, he added, "Treat him gently, Micah. He can't tell us anything dead, can he?"

The lieutenant glanced at Vila, then gestured to four troopers who lifted Vila carefully from the ground and headed away into the night.

#

The instant Blake and the others materialized, he thundered, "Gan, what the hell's going on?"

Gan was confused. "Vila said it was a trap. To bring you up immediately." He looked at the trio. "Where is he?"

Blake turned around, surprise and worry appearing on his face as he noted Vila's absence.

"Dead would be my guess," replied Avon, calmly stripping off his teleport bracelet and placing it in the rack.

"Gan, do you have them?" Jenna's voice came over the intercom. "Are they all right?"

"Yes to both questions," Gan answered slowly. "But Vila isn't with them."

#

The pilot noted the concern in the big man's voice without much surprise; after all, Gan and Vila were close friends. Then she heard voices coming from the corridor leading to the flight deck and turned around to see who it was.

"Vila is dead," Avon announced, coming down the steps, followed closely by Blake and Cally.

"We don't know that, Avon," Blake said firmly.

"No, we don't," Gan agreed.

"Blake," Cally spoke up. "Just before we teleported up, I saw Vila. I heard him cry out."

+Information. Forward scanners have detected the presence of six Federation ships entering this quadrant .+

"Vila is dead," Avon repeated. "And we will be joining him if we don't get out of here."

A hand rested lightly on Blake's shoulder and Cally gazed into the rebel leader's eyes. "Vila saved us, Blake. He died so we might escape. We must not waste his gift."

"Blake?" Jenna looked at him.

Reluctantly, he nodded. "Take us out of orbit, Jenna."

"Zen, break orbit. Speed standard by seven."

+Confirmed.+

#

Vila struggled through a haze of pain toward consciousness. Somehow, despite the agony in his back, he was alive. And there were voices close by. He listened, trying to make sense of them, wondering if Blake, Cally, and Avon had been caught or if they had escaped in time. Wondering, too, if they had escaped, would they come back for him? Or did they think him dead? He almost wished he were, the pain was so bad.

"Why not remove it?" a voice asked. A soft feminine voice. Vila wondered what its owner looked like; surely someone with such a pleasing tone couldn't be ugly.

"I cannot, Roxane. You know the Code. The blade may not be removed until the target is dead," a deep, masculine voice answered.

"Hang the Code, Jared," Roxane snapped. "All it takes is a simple jerk."

"Be very careful what you say, woman. The Code is what keeps our unit strong. It separates us from the rabble and makes us the Federation's Elite."

"More like the Supreme Commander's private assassins," the woman retorted, then relented. "All right. He's your prisoner. What do you propose to do with him?"

"Bait a trap, I think. If a fox wants its prey badly enough, it will come back."

_Bait a trap,_ Vila thought. _The others must have escaped then._ Relief ran through him.

There was movement, then Roxane replied, "You and your antique cliches."

Vila heard footsteps retreat from him, then a door swish open and shut. He decided to risk opening his eyes. He was lying flat on his stomach on a solid surface, his arms crossed, supporting his head comfortably. He turned his head slightly to look around and nearly cried out as the movement sent fire coursing down his back.

"Best not to move, friend." The voice belonged to the man sitting in a chair beside him. Jared, the woman had called him. He was not as young as Vila had thought. A long, narrow scar ran from his right temple to the jawbone. Souvenir of a knife fight from the look of it.

"Who...who are you?" Vila murmured.

"I am Major Jared of the Saluccian Elite. And you are one Vila Restal. A master thief, I'm told." There was no admiration in his voice, he was merely stating a fact.

The word "Saluccian," however, told Vila everything. That was the agony in his back. That was why he had heard him speak of the Code. And it also told him he was in all likelihood dead.

Vila's face must have betrayed something as Jared smiled. "You've heard of us, I see."

"Not directly, no." Vila licked his lips wishing for something to drink, even if it had to be water.

The major stood up and moved across the cell to a small table. He filled a glass from a pitcher, inserted a hollow tube into it, then brought it back to Vila.

"Sip slowly and don't move if you can help it," Jared instructed, holding the tube to Vila's lips.

Vila did as he was told. The water was cold. He drank as much as he could, then shook his head slightly. Jared removed it.

Vila looked up at his captor. "Why bother with me?" he asked. "I'm just a thief and unless I'm mistaken, a dead one at that."

Jared's eyes narrowed at Vila's assessment of his situation, and the gesture reminded him suddenly of someone else. The major's scrutiny was interrupted as Micah entered the cell.

"The Supreme Commander has arrived," the lieutenant announced. He smiled, adding, "Since you were busy with the prisoner, I took the liberty of informing her of Blake's escape."

Jared's jaw twitched slightly. "Would you mind escorting the Supreme Commander here?"

"There is no need," a velvet voice purred and Vila caught sight of a shapely thigh as Servalan, dressed in a long white gown, glided into the room. "Ah, Major, at least you caught something. Not exactly what I asked for, but something."

Jared looked at Micah and jerked his head. The glance and gesture said "out" and Micah obeyed, closing the cell door behind him.

Servalan moved up beside Vila and sighed. "Poor Vila. Does it hurt, I wonder?" She touched the hilt of the knife gently and he gasped and closed his eyes.

"Supreme Commander," Jared interrupted, drawing her attention away from Vila. "Punishment has been exacted upon the man responsible for the mission's failure. Furthermore, it is my belief that..."

"Oh, Avon, stop it. I'm not one of your sniveling junior officers."

Jared's dark eyes flashed dangerously. "No, Madame, you are not. And my name is Jared."

"But it is also Avon," she reminded him.

"After what my brother did," he retorted, "the only name I have left now is Jared."

"Is that why you joined the Saluccia?" Servalan inquired. "To hide your shame?"

His face reddened. "My reasons are well known, Supreme Commander."

She smiled sweetly. "So they are. Please accept my apology." Servalan turned her attention back to Vila, who had only a tenuous hold on consciousness. "How long can he last like that?"

It was Jared's turn to smile. "Long enough, I believe. As I started to explain, I am certain that Blake will try to rescue him. So certain that I have already taken the liberty of sending a message to Space Command Headquarters advising of Restal's capture and requesting that Space Commander Travis take personal charge of his interrogation."

"Travis," she murmured. "Yes, that would draw Blake."

"That is my hope," Jared stated.

The Supreme Commander glided over and gazed up into Jared's eyes. "Then I shall retire to my ship to await Blake's arrival."

#

The silence which had encompassed the _Liberator's_ flight deck since their departure from Danmyon was abruptly shattered.

"Blake," Cally called out from her position, "I'm picking up something. It's a high level priority message being sent from Space Command Headquarters."

Three of her companions turned expectantly toward her; one did not. Avon's attention was focused on locating a minor malfunction in the front deflectors.

"What is it?" Blake asked her.

"Shhhh." Cally concentrated, then her face lit up with surprise and joy. "He's alive! Vila is alive!" she exclaimed and Blake was reminded of his own outburst when he had discovered that Cally had survived Centero.

Gan was clearly delighted. Jenna rose from her place and hurried over to Blake, her face reflecting the joy he felt.

Avon, however, was not so impressed. "What are you going to do, Blake?" His impassive face held none of the rejoicing his companions felt.

"Do?" Blake echoed. "I don't know yet. Cally, what exactly did the message say?"

Her face lost some of its happiness. "They were confirming the base commander's request that Space Commander Travis conduct Vila's interrogation."

At the mention of that name, Blake's expression became grim. "Did the message say when Travis was due to arrive?"

"Blake," Avon warned, "it's a trap. They missed once. So they set up Vila's apparent survival to try again."

"He could be alive, Avon," Gan spoke up. "You don't know he's dead."

"True," Avon admitted. "But even if he is, he has no doubt already told them all he knows."

Blake ignored him. "Zen, course change back to Danmyon. Speed: standard by ten." He turned to Cally.

"Travis is due to arrive in ten hours," Cally reported.

"Zen, how long to Danmyon?" Blake asked.

+At present speed, 7.5 hours.+

"Very well."

Avon stood up and glared at him. "Blake, you're being even more stupid than usual."

"Am I?" He looked at Avon. "What do you suggest I do, Avon? Forget about Vila entirely?"

Ignoring the angry stares of his companions, Avon calmly replied, "Check the story out with the local resistance. If there is any truth to it, they will know or can find out."

"That will take time, Avon," Cally pointed out. "And Vila may not have that."

Avon regarded her with cold eyes. "What happened to your instinct for survival?"

"My 'instinct,' as you call it, tells me that Vila is alive," she told him.

Avon looked at his companions, then turned around, went back to his console, and picked up the micro panel he had been working on.

Blake sighed. "Now that that's all settled, here's what I plan to do."

#

The door to the cell swished open and three figures wearing Federation uniforms entered. Blood had glued Vila's tunic to his back and he had lapsed into delirium. One of the three walked to his side and knelt down. A hand touched his face, and Vila opened his feverish eyes.

/Vila, it is I, Cally./

Vila looked at her weakly. /Blake, he is badly hurt,/ she telepathed. /We must get him out of here and back to the ship./

Blake nodded silently and handed her a teleport bracelet which she snapped onto Vila's wrist. Gan brought his wrist communicator up to speak when an alarm went off and the cell door slammed shut. Gas began pouring into the room.

"Avon, now," Gan shouted.

The teleport field caught them even as the gas took effect. Avon's eyes widened in alarm when they materialized on board. Just before Cally lost consciousness, she saw Avon slam his hand down on the intercom and shout, "Jenna, take us out now!"

#

"Breathe deeply, Blake."

Was he imagining things or did Avon sound worried? Blake opened his eyes to find out. Avon's face was as calm and impassive as ever, but there had been something in his eyes. Something like concern, which had disappeared the instant after Blake had opened his own.

Cally and Gan were also coming round. Cally got slowly to her feet and moved to Vila's side to examine him. "We have to get him to the medical unit and remove the knife."

Her words somehow got through to the semi-conscious thief. "No," Vila said hoarsely. "No. Don't touch it. Get...Jenna, please."

Blake, Gan, and Cally exchanged wondering looks. "Vila, we must take it out," Cally told him gently.

But Vila's voice, though shaky, was insistent. "Please, Cally. Get Jenna."

And Blake nodded to Avon who walked over and activated the intercom. "Jenna, Blake needs you at the teleport."

A few seconds later, the pilot arrived. "Zen says we got away clean. No pursuit ships." Jenna looked questioningly at Blake.

"What did you want?"

"Not me," Blake told her. "Vila. He wanted you."

" _Me_?"

"Perhaps your bedside manner is better than Cally's," Avon commented sarcastically.

She ignored him and moved over to where Vila lay. Her eyes took in the knife and widened in alarm. Softly, she said, "Vila, it's Jenna. What is it you want?"

The thief's eyes opened and he squinted up at her, trying to focus. "Jenna, the knife," he gasped. "Saluccian blade."

Her reaction was similar to what Vila's had been when he had found out. "Saluccian!"

The word was echoed by her companions, but its meaning was unknown to them. "What does that mean?" Blake demanded.

Jenna stood up and faced him. "First things first. Vila must be taken as carefully as possible and without jarring the blade to the medical unit. Gan, we'll need the portable litter."

"Jenna, will you please tell me what's going on?" Blake asked in a very worried tone.

"I, too, wish to know," Cally said.

"I'll explain later," Jenna muttered. Then Gan arrived. "We must lift him carefully. _Do not jar the knife_. Understand?" She glanced at Avon who was still at the teleport console. "We could do it better if you helped." Avon reluctantly got to his feet and came over.

Gan laid the litter next to Vila and Jenna gave out her orders. Gan would take Vila's shoulders; Blake, his legs. Avon and Cally would have to support Vila's midsection, keeping Vila as rigid as possible when he was moved.

"And what will you be doing?" Avon inquired acidly.

"Making sure that blade doesn't move," she snapped back and her companions took their places. "Remember, Avon, Cally, the minute Blake and Gan lift," Jenna reminded, "get your arms under him. Don't let him sag." Avon's eyes flashed, but he nodded acknowledgement as did Cally.

When she was sure, she gave the word. It took only an instant to move him, but Vila screamed in agony and a fresh red blotch began spreading out from the wound.

"Quickly now," Jenna told them and Blake and Gan picked up the litter and carried it to the medical unit. Cally followed a step behind.

#

Once Vila was transferred to one of the med couches, Jenna delicately cut his tunic and began peeling the blood-soaked fabric from his back, piece by piece. Blake and Gan stood back out of the way, watching Cally connect the med computer's sensor links and set up a plasma transfusion. While they waited for the med computer to complete its check, she set up the respirator.

+Patient has suffered extreme blood loss, shock, and severe trauma,+ advised the med computer using Zen's voice.

"We already know that," Gan muttered worriedly. Blake looked at him and silently agreed. Vila was partially conscious and every time he whimpered, Gan clenched his fists. Cally checked the readout by the computer and turned toward the drug cabinet for an anesthetic.

"Jenna, what's this about 'Saluccian'?" Blake queried.

The pilot explained as she worked. "The Saluccians are the elite force of the Federation, Blake. Specialized training, specialized skills, everything. In many ways, they are the Federation's private army of assassins."

"Why haven't I heard of them before?"

"Blake, what good would a secret army be if people knew about it?"

"Not very much," he conceded. "But you knew about their existence. Vila did, too. How?"

"I can't speak for Vila, but as for me, I first heard about them when I was with the Amorites."

She paused as a piece of fabric got hung up on some dried blood and gently worked it free. "Did you know, Blake, that each member of the Saluccia receives a special weapon when he graduates?"

"That?" he asked, pointing to the knife.

"Yes." She'd finished cleaning the blood from Vila's back.

"Anything I can do to help?" Blake asked.

"Pray," Jenna answered. "Just pray."

"I'm going to remove the knife now." Jenna's voice was steady and reassuring, despite the turmoil going on inside her.

"Right. Everyone ready?" Jenna eyed her companions who nodded back nervously. Her own hands were shaking and she took a moment to still them. _Calm,_ she told herself, _one slip and Vila is dead. Calm down, damn you._

There was a small button on the hilt of the knife. It had to be depressed before the blade could be removed. Jenna studied the handle, trying to find it. The weapon had been used frequently, progression through the ranks being attained by the number of kills attributed to its owner, and the button would have become worn almost flat to the base relief.

Jenna frowned and withdrew from Vila's side. A few moments later, she returned with a piece of magnification crystal taken from a drawer across the room. Carefully, she scanned the hilt, looking for the button. It had to be somewhere. _Ah,_ she sighed, _there it is_.

Jenna took a deep breath and let it out. Then she took another, gripped the hilt, depressed the button, and pulled the knife from Vila's back.

Jenna's face shone triumphantly as she held up the blade. It was bloodstained, yes, but looked no different from any other knife. Blake cocked a curious eye at her and Jenna pressed the button.

From either side of the tip of the blade small, razor-sharp barbs emerged, fanning out in an arc surrounding the point. Minute shreds of skin and tissue clung to them.

"My God," Blake exclaimed. "No wonder Vila didn't want us to pull it out."

"It would have killed him for sure," Gan murmured, staring down at his friend and shuddering.

Cally made no comment. She was occupied with trying to stem the flow of blood.

"Will he be all right?" Blake asked.

Cally smiled. "The tissue was torn up and he has lost a lot of blood, but yes, Blake, I think Vila will be all right."

#

The sigh which escaped the medical unit was echoed by one on the flight deck as Avon sat back, relieved. He had activated the intercom as soon as he had arrived there and heard everything. He was glad Vila was going to be all right. Vila might be the most bothersome, obnoxious, irritating person on board, but Avon had to admit he kept things interesting.

#

On Danmyon, Jared wished things weren't so interesting as he awaited Servalan's displeasure. Micah had thoughtfully carried her the news of Vila's rescue and Blake's escape. If he lived long enough, Jared intended to pay Micah back for his treachery. But the odds of that happening were very slim. The Supreme Commander was not known to forgive anyone once, let alone twice. So far, he had merely been placed under house arrest and put in the same cell Vila had occupied. No doubt to meditate on what his punishment would be.

Death would be a blessing, but he could not see Servalan granting him that way out. And a horrible thought occurred to him. No, she wouldn't do that. Would she? Modification? He shuddered inwardly. No! He would force them to kill him before that happened.

In the command center, Servalan watched Jared via the monitor, reading his face as easily as she would any printed matter. He had failed and now sat waiting for whatever punishment she deemed proper. Of course; the Code demanded it. Given the chance, he probably would have killed himself with his own knife. Ah, she remembered, but his knife was gone. Gone with Vila who by now was surely dead. One less rebel, however useless, to worry about. She contemplated the man on the screen. Punishment was called for, something severe, but not deadly. Not yet. Jared might still prove useful. She turned as the door swished open and Micah entered, saluting. His eyes caught sight of the figure on the monitor and he smiled.

"You've decided on the punishment, Supreme Commander?" he asked.

Servalan eyed the man curiously, then nodded. "Yes, Captain." Micah straightened at his sudden promotion. "In view of his previous record, I've decided to grant him absolution--"

"Absolution?" Micah was stunned.

She smiled sweetly. "Yes, absolution by trial. According to the Code."

Micah's disbelief turned into a vicious smile. "You realize that I am now in charge of the unit?"

"Of course. And as your first act, it will be your honor to stand as executioner of the sentence."

Servalan could see how eager Micah was. So eager he could well get himself killed. The Code demanded that the accused face his commander in a narrow, dark tunnel. If he or she emerged alive, which had rarely happened, they were released of all charges and restored to whatever rank previously held. She was sending Jared to his death and yet, she thought, there was a chance he would survive. The Saluccian Code demanded only the best, after all.

As for Blake and the others, their capture had merely been delayed. Sooner or later, she would catch them. And then her plans for power could move forward.

#

Vila regained consciousness in stages. The first thing he discovered was the terrible pain in his back was gone, replaced by a dull throb which he found he could tolerate. Then his other senses started working. A sweet fragrance filled his nostrils. He couldn't place it exactly, a fruit perhaps or some kind of flower. Or.... Perfume, that was it. Blake and Gan didn't wear any; he didn't think Avon did, so whoever was with him had to be either Jenna or Cally.

He opened his eyes slowly. A blur of gold swirled into view. _Gold? Am I dead after all?_ he wondered, remembering a story he had heard as a child. Thieves' Heaven had streets paved with gold. Or so the old beggar had told him. The gold moved closer and a voice, a distinctly familiar female voice, called to him.

"Vila? Can you hear me? It's all right. I've removed the knife. You're going to be all right."

_Knife?_ he thought idly. _What knife?_ Then he remembered and a cold shiver ran through him. The Saluccian blade. His mind spun into focus as he imagined the damage to his back. To his spine. His spine? _I'm not paralyzed, am I?_ he wondered. He tried to move his arms and was relieved when they responded. Legs? He tried them and was doubly relieved.

Jenna laughed. "I told you. You'll be all right. Cally said a few muscles were cut up, but all in all, you'll be back to, drinking and complaining soon enough."

Vila tried to look irritated, but the effort exhausted him. He felt so weak, so light-headed. _Must have lost some blood,_ he thought. _Probably got me doped up, too._

"Here, drink this, Vila," Jenna instructed, holding a glass filled with a pale green liquid to his lips. "Your throat must be parched."

Up until she mentioned it, he had not really noticed. He did now, and Vila drank the liquid thankfully. His throat had felt like the bottom of a barrel left too long in the sun. Definitely dry. Whatever was in the drink, it relaxed him and he smiled up at her. "Thanks."

She returned his smile and that puzzled him. Jenna had never taken to him like the others had, but now she seemed to have changed.

The pilot regarded him for a moment, then asked, "How did you guess I would know about the knife?"

Vila tried to shrug, then grimaced as the movement disturbed the healing wound. "I...I sort of thought you being a smuggler, you might have come across one somewhere."

Jenna nodded thoughtfully. "As a matter of fact, Tarvin had one. Souvenir off a Saluccian sent to kill him. It seems the Federation thought we were taking too many of their precious cargoes. I only saw him use it once, but that was enough. And you?"

"Ran into them when me and a pal were working on a government job. Saluccia were guarding the place, but we didn't know that. They _looked_ like regular security guards, but they weren't." He paused a moment and grimaced again. "My friend tried to escape. He shouldn't have.

"Speaking of which," Vila looked around. "What did you do with the...the...."

"Knife?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I gave it to Avon," Jenna explained. "He was curious about it. And I didn't think you'd mind."

"As long as it doesn't end up in my back again, I don't," Vila grumbled.

She laughed. "Just remember not to get Avon angry at you and you won't have to worry."

Avon. The conversation in his cell between Jared and Servalan came back to Vila. "Where is Avon?" Vila inquired.

"On the flight deck, I expect," Jenna answered, surprised. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason. Just wondering."

"You're awake, I see," came Blake's voice from the doorway. He crossed the room to stand looking down at Vila. "How are you feeling, Vila?"

"Much better, thanks." He gazed up into the rebel leader's face and added, "Thank you for coming back for me, Blake."

"You didn't think I would leave you there, did you?" The doubtful look on Vila's face gave him his answer. Blake cleared his throat. "Anyway, I'm here to thank you."

"Thank me?" Vila didn't understand what Blake was talking about.

"Well, if you hadn't told Gan to bring us up, this conversation would probably not be taking place," Blake told Vila. "Cally and I are both grateful to you."

"And Avon?" Jenna demanded. "Isn't he grateful, too?"

The person in question chose that moment to make his entrance. "Ah, I see despite the Federation's best efforts, you are still with us, Vila." While his tone was as callous as ever, Vila knew there was nothing malicious behind it.

"Sorry, Avon?" Vila asked.

"Hardly," Avon answered matter-of-factly. "Every ship has its weak link. With you missing, that left just Blake or Gan."

Blake raised an eyebrow at Avon, then shook his head. "I think that's as close to a 'thank you' as you're likely to get from him, Vila."

Vila studied Avon carefully before replying. "I'll accept it," he said.

Blake looked at Jenna who looked back at him. The rebel leader cleared his throat again. "Well, Cally said not to exhaust you, so I won't."

"You would be enough to exhaust anyone," Avon responded, drawing a frown from Jenna.

"Avon, if I were a man..."

"Don't let that stop you," he returned coolly.

Blake broke it up. "Jenna, there's something I need your advice on." He looked at Vila. "We'll come back later when you're feeling better." Then he dragged Jenna from the room.

Vila watched them leave with mixed emotions. How could he tell Avon about his brother? And yet he had to say something or he would burst. As Avon headed for the door, Vila gathered his nerve and called him back.

"What is it?" Avon asked in an annoyed tone. "Need your pillows fluffed or what?"

Vila looked uneasily at him, then decided to plunge in. "Avon, I know it's none of my business, but...but do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Avon froze, staring at him. It took him so long to answer that Vila thought he wasn't going to, then Avon said slowly, "I had an older brother, Jared. But he was killed some time ago. Why do you ask?"

Vila swallowed hard. In his mind's eye, he compared the two men, overlaying Jared's features with Avon's, then vice versa. There was no chance of his being mistaken. Jared was not dead. He was alive and working for the Federation.

More hesitantly than ever, Vila spoke. "Was...was he tall, sort of muscular, with blond hair?"

Avon's expression frightened Vila. "Yes, but how could you know that?"

"Avon," Vila began fearfully. "Avon, your...your brother is alive. He's not dead. He's in charge of the Saluccian Unit on Danmyon. That knife that Jenna took out of me--it's his."

Vila watched Avon's eyes, seeing the disbelief. "I know it's true, Avon. I heard Jared talking to Servalan. He thought I was unconscious. Servalan said something about his joining up because of the disgrace you had brought to him. Your...your brother didn't like that, but I think it was the truth." Vila looked worriedly at Avon. "I...I think if he saw you again, he might even try to kill you, Avon."

#

The fear and concern in Vila's voice both annoyed and touched Avon. But the problem remained. _If_ Jared was alive, he would not rest until Avon was dead. Sibling rivalry was petty compared to Jared's sense of family honor. Something he'd tried to teach his younger brother.

Jared had patterned his life style after the ancient Spartans. Death before dishonor and all that. Show your back to no enemy and trust no one. His words echoed through Avon's mind. _"Trust no one." Well, he had been right there,_ Avon mused grimly. _If I had listened to him, I wouldn't have been caught._

"Avon?"

The computer expert drew his thoughts back to the present and to the man who lay watching him with worried eyes. "Get some rest, Vila."

"But Avon...." Vila's protest died on his lips. Stopped by the look Avon gave him as he left the room.

#

The Pit of Judgment. In reality, just an underground tunnel, but every rookie sent there from Earth to undergo Saluccia training had to survive it to become a full-fledged member of the Elite. Jared had survived, as had Micah, but this time it would be different. This time, the weapons would be real and failure would not be mere dismissal; it would be death.

The two men would enter from opposite ends of the tunnel, then make their way along in the pitch dark until they met. The trick was to detect your opponent, pinpoint his position, and then kill him before he got you.

Jared fingered the borrowed blade. Roxane had given him hers. He knew that she hated Micah. That her hand did not throw the knife didn't matter, just as long as it was her blade which killed him. The balance was different from his and he brought it to a ready position, trying to get the feel of it. The trigger button lay slightly higher than his had, shortened for a woman's reach.

As dictated by the Code, Jared was led blindfolded into the tunnel two full minutes after Micah had entered. His former lieutenant could be anywhere in the 500-foot-long tunnel. He could be anywhere, lying in wait. Jared could wait for Micah to come to him or... He had never been a coward. He would not be one now. Jared paused only long enough to adjust his senses to the darkness, then moved cautiously forward.

#

At the other end, Micah waited. He knew Jared and knew what he would do. All he had to do was wait. The Supreme Commander had hinted at the reward awaiting the victor and Micah was more than confident of his superiority.

And that was his downfall. He expected Jared to charge right up the path and onto his blade. Still, never one to leave anything to chance, Micah had spread a light layer of dry straw on the floor some 50 feet from where he stood. It was against the Code, of course, but who would ever know?

#

Jared counted his paces as he stole along the path. He'd helped design the Pit, something Micah did not know. He knew its exact length and depth. When the count reached 400, he dropped to the floor and crawled on. Jared also knew where Micah's favorite place to set his blade was: dead center in the chest, lodging it in the breast bone. Then Micah would give the blade a full twist, killing the victim--cruel but effective in making examples of troublemakers.

As he inched forward, his outstretched fingers encountered something lying on the hard dirt floor. Straw. What was straw doing in the pit? Jared felt the heat rise to his face. Micah had violated the Code. Any feeling of regret or pity he might have had for his former lieutenant departed. He was going to enjoy killing him.

#

Above ground, near the entrance Micah had entered, Roxane and two honor guards stood by Servalan as they awaited the inevitable. The wait was not long in coming as a blood-curdling scream filled the air. Servalan, normally unshaken by such things, nevertheless turned a little pale and took a half-step back. Roxane's face shone with pride, sure that it was Micah who had screamed.

A few minutes later, her faith was justified as a soiled and sweaty Jared emerged, bearing a bloody knife. Its exposed razor edges still retained scraps of Micah's flesh. He bowed and returned the weapon to Roxane who, like a triumphant Valkyrie, smiled and accepted it.

Jared saluted the Supreme Commander, then walked quietly back to the base followed by Roxane and the honor guard. And Servalan was left staring down into the black hole, an expression of uneasiness settling on her face.

#

Vila was running, running as fast as he could, but he could not escape. The silvery flash of the blade followed him wherever he went. He had to escape. He had to warn the others. He had.... The blade struck him. He screamed.

"Vila!" A sharp voice broke through the nightmare and Vila's eyes flew open. Avon was looking down at him with concern, concern which he quickly concealed but not before Vila saw it.

Vila had been in and out of delirium since their last conversation some three days ago. Cally had tended him, alternating with Gan, trying to break the fever's hold but so far they had been unsuccessful.

"Avon," Vila murmured. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for Cally, when I heard you cry out."

"Hmmm." Then Vila remembered the nightmare and started shaking. He forced himself still and asked, "Where are we?"

Avon looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Orbiting Danmyon."

"What?" Vila exclaimed in horror. "Has Blake gone crazy?"

"Very possibly," Avon responded in a level voice.

"You're...you're not going down, are you?" Vila asked anxiously.

"As a matter of fact," Avon told him, "yes. Since you are somewhat under the weather, Blake asked that I give him a hand. I _am_ somewhat acquainted with alarm systems after all."

Vila's look of shock turned into disbelief. "You...help him...with an alarm system?"

"Why not?" Avon snapped. "If an idiot like you can do it, I certainly can."

Vila ignored the insult. "But Avon, if Jared should see you...."

"I shall make sure he doesn't," Avon assured him.

"No," Vila argued. "If Blake needs locks opened, that's my job. I'll do it." Vila tried to get up, only to be pushed flat by Avon's hands. He batted at Avon weakly, exhausting what strength he had.

"You will stay where you are, if I have to tie you there."

Vila looked at him curiously. "I didn't think you cared."

Avon stared back at him. "I don't. But Cally will, if she sees how upset you've become. She and Gan have spent a considerable amount of time taking care of you."

Vila thought back through the past few days. Cally's face and Gan's came and went. Someone else's, too. Avon. The recollection made him jump. "Avon, I _have_ to go. Don't you see that. I'm all right, really."

"Are you?" Avon studied him a moment. "Then you can tell me what is lying on that counter."

As Vila turned his head to look, Avon snatched up a tranquilizer Cally had left on the table beside Vila's couch and pressed it against Vila's arm.

Vila jerked free from his grasp, but it was too late. "Avon, why...why did you do that?" His eyes were growing heavier by the second and his mind beginning to fog. "But Jared...don't want him...kill you. Can't let...it...hap--" Vila slipped into unconsciousness.

"That really wasn't necessary, Avon," a voice said softly behind him.

The computer expert spun about to see Cally standing in the doorway. How long she had been there and how much she had heard, he didn't need to ask.

"Vila is very worried about you, Avon," she continued, walking over to the couch.

Avon regarded Cally with hooded eyes. "I can't imagine why."

"Aren't you afraid what will happen down there?" Cally went on. "With Jared, I mean?"

The computer expert's face resumed its impassiveness. So Vila had said something. The question now was, how much did Cally know.

As if reading his mind, Cally asked, "Will your brother try to kill you?"

Any pretense of not knowing what she meant was pointless. He shrugged. "Possibly, if what Vila said is true." Avon looked at her intently. "Who else knows?"

"No one," she told him. "When Gan came on, I made sure Vila was sedated. From what he said, Avon, it is a matter of honor and that does not require witnesses."

He nodded solemnly. Honor. Of course. Honor was what kept Cally from returning home after Saurian Major. She understood and Avon knew she would tell no one. Vila? He gazed down at Vila thoughtfully. For some reason, he didn't think Vila would tell anyone either.

The intercom chimed. "Avon?" It was Blake.

He stepped past Cally to the wall comm to answer. "Yes, Blake?"

"It's nearly time," the rebel leader reminded him.

"I know. I'll meet you at the teleport." Avon switched the comm off and headed for the door.

Cally touched him lightly on the arm. "Avon, honor has many meanings. And to each person, it is different. Please, be careful."

He rewarded her with a brief smile. "I always am." Then he glanced back at Vila. "Take care of him, Cally. I think the fever's coming back."

#

Jared, clothed in his best dress uniform and showing no sign of his ordeal, stood at attention, waiting for the Supreme Commander to speak. Servalan looked up from the report she had been reading and smiled.

"Jared A...." She paused at the flash in his eyes and sighed. "Major Jared, you have been absolved of the charges against you. And it is hoped that no ill-feelings exist between us." The touch of foreboding she had felt outside the Pit had not left and the data acquired in her absence did not help.

Jared's eyes were sparkled. "The Saluccia are, as always, the Federation's hidden dagger, Supreme Commander," he answered, quoting the creed of his unit.

"I am pleased to hear that," she murmured. "Then perhaps you will be able to ferret out the traitor in your midst." Servalan handed him the report.

The horror which crossed his face at her words somehow eased Servalan's tension. Jared read the intercepted message and then handed it back to her. "When was it picked up?"

Servalan smiled. "When you were busy killing Micah. Your technicians were most efficient in tracing the origin of the transmission, Jared. It came from somewhere within this base."

"But...." The major was at a loss for words.

"I share your concern," Servalan told him. "The traitor must be found and dealt with quickly. If this message got through--"

"Blake will be on his way back here." Jared smiled, temporarily puzzling her superior.

"Yes, but--"

"Then we will have still another chance, Supreme Commander. Another try at catching him."

Servalan eyed the man questioningly. "Not if he is warned off by your traitor."

"Then we shall tell no one of our trap, Supreme Commander," he answered. "It will be our secret."

She smiled then. Servalan was glad Jared had survived the Pit. She needed more officers like him.

#

"All set?" Blake asked, handing him a teleport bracelet.

"Since you're determined to get us killed," Avon retorted. "let's get it over with."

"You know, you're beginning to sound like Vila," Blake remarked, smiling.

The glare he received from Avon dissolved as the teleport field whisked them down to the planet's surface.

#

The coordinates deposited them in a small clearing close to a wooded area, not too far from where their first rendezvous had taken place. That fact did not make either of the men feel any easier. Though it was well after dark, the brightness of Oblys, Danmyon's moon, made it seem almost daytime.

"Down and safe, Gan," Blake advised. "Keep alert in case we need to be pulled out quickly."

"Understood, Blake," came Gan's reply. Then, "Be careful."

"Let's get under cover," Avon whispered, pointing to a grove of trees a short distance off. Blake nodded. Their contact wasn't due for another hour anyway. Might as well wait somewhere comfortable.

"How is Vila?" Blake asked as they settled beneath a large tree.

"I think the fever's coming back." Avon answered quietly.

Blake shook his head in dismay. It had been touch and go for Vila that first day back on board. First he had developed a mild form of blood poisoning. Then this recurring fever had started, stealing what little strength Vila had from him.

A twig broke behind them and the two men froze as a low voice said, "Your names, trespassers, or I shall kill you where you sit?"

Blake swallowed and edged his hand slowly for his weapon. A knife sank into the bark next to him, its Saluccian blade burrowing deep into the tree's flesh.

"Next time, it will be your throat," cracked the voice. "Now, identify yourselves."

"My name is Blake. This," he indicated to his companion, "is Avon."

The presence behind them sighed and they heard a gun holstered. A slender figure dropped down behind the rebel leader and deftly retrieved the knife.

Blake turned his head then and was surprised to find a lovely pair of blue eyes, staring steadily into his. "My name is Roxane. I am the one who contacted you.

Avon consulted his chronometer. "You are also nearly 50 minutes early," he remarked.

"I know; something is going on. What, I do not know, but something is."

"Is the Supreme Commander still here?" Blake asked.

"That one." Roxane was clearly not impressed by Servalan. "Oh, she's still here."

"And Major...Jared?" Avon inquired in a curiously flat tone. "What about him?"

"He's at the base." Roxane gazed questioningly at Avon. "As its commander, where else would he be?" She looked at him closer and Blake saw her eyes widen in alarm.

"Roxane," Blake said, breaking the tension between the two people. "Why did you contact us?"

She tore her gaze from Avon to answer Blake. "I had to," Roxane explained. "The Saluccia have been ordered to guard a shipment of Dynzide ZL4. It's a drug produced for...."

"Population control," Blake interrupted, drawing a startled look from Roxane and Avon.

"Yes," she said, surprised. "But how did you know?"

Blake looked down at his hands. "I...worked on the project just before Bran Foster contacted me," he told them. "Before I escaped."

"Where is the drug being stored?" It was Avon who asked.

Roxane sighed. "That's the problem. It's in a high-level security vault."

"Then there's no problem," Blake said confidently. "If you can get us to the vault, we'll worry about the rest."

Avon was exasperated. "Blake, you are undoubtedly the most--"

The rebel leader held up a hand for silence. "Later, Avon. Right now, we need to teleport up and get some charges." To Roxane, he said, "Be right back," then activated his wrist comm. "All right, Gan, bring us up."

Roxane watched, fascinated as the two men disappeared. A few minutes later, they reappeared. Avon was carrying a small satchel. Blake smiled indulgently as the woman had not seemed to have moved. "Now," he murmured, "shall we go?"

She nodded. "All right. Follow me."

#

Jared paced nervously in front of the surveillance cameras, glancing first at one, then another. "Come on, Blake," he muttered under his breath. "Show up."

"Did you say something, sir?" inquired the young monitor technician.

"No," Jared snapped back, then forced himself to relax. "It's just nerves, Delgado, that's all."

The young technician nodded his understanding and returned his gaze to the screens in front of him.

Suddenly, Delgado exclaimed, "There, sir, someone on Field Camera 8, Sector 6."

Jared flew to the screen, his face taking on the smile of a cat about to swallow a canary, as he saw Blake on the monitor.

"There was someone else just ahead of him, sir, but I missed who it was," the young technician confessed.

"That's all right," Jared told him. "Unless I miss my mark, that man there is the one we want." His smile deepened as Avon came within camera range. "Welcome also, little brother," he whispered quietly to himself.

"Shall I notify the Supreme Commander, sir?"

"You will wait 30 minutes," Jared ordered. "Then notify her to meet me in the detention area."

Trained to obey orders without question, Delgado acknowledged and went back to his monitoring duties. Jared, meanwhile, slipped his newly acquired Saluccian knife onto his belt, picked up a paragun, and left the room at a run.

#

Darting down a back hallway and through two doors, Jared was outside in two minutes. Section 6 was a quarter of a mile from the base, but he knew where Blake and Avon were headed. All he had to do was intercept them before they reached the security vault.

In his mind, Jared rehearsed what he would do as he made his way there. He would stun Blake and the Saluccian traitor. The Supreme Commander wanted Blake alive and he wanted the traitor. Jared smiled grimly. Correction, both traitors. The one who had betrayed the Code and that other one who had betrayed _him_.

His thoughts turned to Avon. But the memory invoked was not the image he wanted. Rather it was that of the frail little brother who had tried very hard to keep up with him. The one who had taken a childish dare and then had lain in a body cast for months after that dare backfired. They had not known if he would live. And if he did live, if he would walk again. But Avon had fooled the doctors as Jared had known he would. His little brother's strength of will would not permit him to be a helpless invalid for long. A scant two weeks after the cast had come off, he was struggling to walk and Jared was right beside him, encouraging him.

The major shook his head violently, trying to dissipate that younger image, trying to replace it with the picture of the man who had turned criminal and dishonored him in the eyes of the Federation. But he could not.

Jared stopped. The vault lay before him. All he had to do was take up his position. He would wait behind one of the large concrete pylons which lay adjacent to the structure. From there, he would have a clear field of vision. Jared grinned to himself, remembering how he had once hated those two sentinels of cement reaching toward the sky. Now one hid his presence. Quietly, he slipped into the shadows and waited for Blake and Avon to arrive.

#

The pair of rebels moved quickly through the forest, their female guide floating like a ghost before them. One minute she was there, the next she was gone. Then there was a noise which sounded like a sigh just ahead and the men froze. After a moment, they moved cautiously forward and came upon a man's corpse, a Federation guard whose throat had been neatly slit from ear to ear. Blake glanced back at Avon, who nodded. Roxane had not been lying. She could have killed them very easily indeed.

The men moved on, down a gentle slope to the edge of a clearing. In the distance, a solitary building stood. Flanking the structure were two massive pylons which glistened like quicksilver in the moonlight. _Very impressive,_ Avon thought.

Roxane appeared from nowhere at Blake's side. "The drug is kept in there," she whispered. Blake nodded and started forward, but the woman stopped him.

"What is it?" Avon hissed.

She looked at him uneasily. "I don't know. It feels wrong."

"Wrong?" Blake caught the fear in her voice. "What do you mean?"

"That Federation guard," she began. "He did not belong in the forest. He should have been at the entrance to the vault."

"Perhaps necessity took him there," Avon commented sarcastically. "Blake, are we going to stand here all night?"

Roxane glared at him. "If you are so eager to die, I will not stop you."

Avon's eyes flashed dangerously and Blake stopped what might have become an argument. One which Avon might well have lost.

"Roxane," he said, "regardless of the danger, we have to try. If that shipment is delivered, whole worlds could become enslaved by the Federation."

"I know," she sighed. "My brother died because of what that vault contains. It is why we first contacted you. Then, when the Saluccia learned of the meeting, we had to play along. We did not mean to deceive you, Blake."

"I know that," Blake said gently. "Or I would not have come back."

"Oh yes you would," someone muttered from Avon's direction.

Roxane ignored him. "All right. I will scout the perimeter to be sure it is clear. I've already disabled the surveillance cameras surrounding the vault."

"Then let's get moving," Avon urged. He looked at Blake. "Or don't you think I can do it?"

Blake answered without hesitation. "Of course, you can do it."

"Time is wasting," Roxane reminded them and slipped into the darkness without a sound.

"I wish I knew how she did that," Blake muttered.

"It's easy, Blake," Avon remarked. "She weighs less than you. Now let's get this over with."

Making as little noise as possible, the pair moved out into the clearing. Blake was in the lead, Avon right behind him, carrying the satchel of charges.

#

From his hiding place, Jared watched two figures detach themselves from the trees and dart towards the vault. The heavier one, that had to be Blake. The slim figure, following behind, Jared identified at once--Kerr. The major raised his paragun, took aim and fired.

#

Blake dropped to the soft grass without a sound the instant the ray struck him. Avon dove away from him, flattening himself on the ground. Blake was still alive. Avon could hear him breathing, but he could not tell how badly his companion was hurt. And whoever had shot Blake was close, very close.

Silently, Avon crawled up next to the still form and examined him. There was no sign of blood, just a slight rigidity to the body which told Avon that Blake had merely been stunned. _Of course; the Supreme Commander would want him alive_ , Avon thought to himself.

"Come out, little brother." The voice sent a chill down Avon's spine. "Come out or I shall kill Blake where he lies."

A sudden burst of fire sprayed the ground next to Blake's still form and Avon sprang back instinctively. A harsh laugh came from behind him and Avon whirled around, his blaster in his hand.

"I see your reflexes are still good, little brother," Jared remarked. "But not good enough." He moved out from behind the pylon into the moonlight not ten paces from Avon.

A tall, blond avenging angel, Avon thought as he looked at him. "I thought you were dead," he told Jared. "Killed in the attack on the _Manorly_."

"You mean you hoped I was dead," Jared shot back. "I have one question to ask before I kill you: Why, Kerr? Tell me why you disgraced our name...why you disgraced _me_?"

"Call it temptation, Jared." Avon smiled thinly. "The sight of all that money was simply too much for me. Besides, my 'withdrawal' was paltry compared to that taken by those sanctimonious bureaucrats who run the Federation."

"Every government has its corruption," Jared commented.

"True. But the Federation is beyond simple corruption. Only a blind man could fail to see it. Sooner or later it will topple, Jared, despite your heroic attempts to save it." Avon glanced down at Blake. "You and Blake are both idealists. He wants to change the system. You seek to keep it pure and whole."

"The Federation represents discipline, Kerr," Jared argued. "A discipline needed if the universe is to survive."

"And history repeats itself," Avon commented. "That's why you are here alone, isn't it? To kill me personally. To cleanse yourself? Absolution, is it not?"

Jared smiled at him. "At least you remember that much of what I taught you." He dropped the paragun he used on Blake and drew his knife. Avon involuntarily took a step back. He knew what that blade could do and he knew his brother's skill.

"I could kill you." Avon warned him. "One shot now and you'd be dead."

"You could," Jared agreed. "But you won't." He fingered the hilt of his knife. "Do you remember the last time you tried, little brother? You were the enemy and I was the Federation."

"We were children then," Avon countered, his hands beginning to sweat. "We are not children now."

"Child or adult, Kerr. I know you. And I know your weaknesses." Jared took a step forward, testing his brother's reaction. Avon did not move. He took another step.

And Avon brought his weapon up, forcing himself to take aim. "Jared, please--don't make me," he half-whispered.

"I shall kill you, Kerr," his brother said. "I _must_ kill you. It's the only way to free myself of the shame." He took another step and Avon squeezed the trigger.

Something flashed out of the darkness at Avon, grazing his gun arm the second after he fired. Avon gasped in pain and fell, losing his weapon as he struck the ground. He lay there stunned, waiting for Jared to finish him off.

#

"Avon?" a female voice called. Roxane's voice. "Avon, are you all right?"

The computer expert sat up and answered in a shaky voice, "Yes." He looked around and saw the woman was kneeling beside a figure lying in the grass. Avon got slowly to his feet and went over to her.

Jared grimaced, coughed up blood, and opened his eyes. Roxane stared triumphantly down at him. "You?" he moaned. "Why?"

"Something you should understand, Jared. Honor," she said simply. "You gave the order for Micah to kill my brother. Then Micah died by your hand, but mine was the blade. Now, I have killed you. My brother's honor is avenged."

"Brother?" Jared whispered.

"Narr was my brother," Roxane told him, then glanced at Avon. "As he is yours. Your life was mine to take, not his." She added, sounding slightly disgusted, "Besides, his shot went wide."

"K...Kerr?"

"I'm here, Jared." Avon leaned close to him, ignoring the blood which streamed down his arm from where Jared's blade had creased him.

"I'm...I'm sorry, little brother," Jared murmured and looked up, his eyes unfocused. "I didn't know the bridge support was that weak." Avon stared at him, unsure what to say. "Forgiven?" Jared asked as he had so very long ago when they were children.

Avon took his brother's hand, feeling the cold which was invading Jared's body, and held it tight. "Forgiven as ever, Jared."

Jared gave a deep sigh, shuddered once, and died, leaving Avon and Roxane alone in the night with a corpse.

#

Blake groaned and slowly opened his eyes. The last thing he remembered was running for the building, then something hit him. He sat up carefully and checked himself. No broken bones, only a fading stiffness. He recognized the symptoms. Stunray.

He looked around and saw Avon and Roxane kneeling beside a figure on the ground. Someone was moaning softly and he thought he heard voices speaking but he couldn't be sure. Being stunned did strange things to one's brain and it took time to get it working properly again.

Then Avon got to his feet, noticed Blake was conscious, and walked over to him. The first thing the rebel leader noticed was the blood on his companion's arm. "Avon," Blake exclaimed in a worried tone. "You're hurt."

The computer expert ignored him and said, "We'll have to hurry. Servalan could be here anytime." He studied Blake closely. "Maybe I'd better do it myself," Avon said. "You're likely to blow us both up." He reached for the charges lying beside Blake, but the other man stopped him.

"I can handle it," Blake muttered. "Who's that?" He pointed to Jared's solitary figure. Roxane had withdrawn to the forest to keep watch.

"Someone I knew a long time ago," Avon told him flatly. "Someone I thought was dead." Plainly he did not want to discuss it, so Blake didn't press him. "Now," Avon continued. "Shall we get on with this?"

Blake got stiffly to his feet and followed Avon to the vault. The alarm system was relatively simple and Avon had no trouble bypassing it. In fact, what took the longest was getting the vault door open.

Once it was open, though, they divided the charges between them and set to work, planting the explosives in and around the huge crates filled with Dynzide ZL4.

"All right," Blake announced as the last charge was placed. "Let's get out of here."

Avon secured the vault door behind them, reactivating the alarm system. Then the two men joined Roxane, who was waiting for them at the edge of the forest.

"How long until it goes up?" she asked.

"About five minutes," Avon answered.

Blake looked at her and said, "Coming with us?"

Roxane shook her head. "Danmyon is my home, Blake, and I will fight for it as my brother did, with honor."

Avon's eyes darkened slightly. "A friend once told me that honor was his sole reason for living. Once he lost that, he would die."

Roxane's eyes held his for a moment. "Your 'friend' was a very wise man," she murmured.

"You're sure you won't come with us?" Blake asked again.

"Thank you, no. Now I have to get back on my patrol before I'm missed. A safe trip, Blake, and thank you." Like a shadow, she drifted into the forest and disappeared.

Blake glanced over at Avon and said, "I think it's time we went home." Raising his wrist communicator, he said, "Gan, bring us up."

"Teleporting now," came the reply and the two men shimmered from sight, leaving behind a forest occupied by shadows and ghosts.

#

Cally gasped as Blake and Avon materialized. "Down to the medical unit," she ordered. As Avon opened his mouth to argue, she added, "And no arguments."

As it happened, Avon didn't get a chance to say anything as his legs suddenly buckled out from under him. Blake made a grab for him, but Gan was quicker. Hefting the unconscious man up into his arms, he carried Avon to the medical unit with Cally and Blake but a step behind.

#

Vila was awake and fairly shouted when he saw Avon brought in. "What happened?" Vila demanded, trying to get out of bed.

Blake forced him back down. "He's all right, Vila. It's just a flesh wound."

"Flesh wounds bleed like _that_?" Vila snapped back. "Let me up; I want to look."

"No, you don't," Gan told him. "Blood makes you sick, remember?" His words brought Vila up short and Vila paled a little.

"Uh, yeah," he murmured. "I...I guess I forgot." Vila looked across to Cally who was examining Avon's arm. "He _is_ all right, isn't he, Cally?"

The Auron knew what Vila wanted to know and nodded. "Yes, Vila," she said gently. "He's fine." Then she added sternly, "Now, lie down."

If Cally said he was all right, then it was true and Vila relaxed. He had been so afraid that Avon might not come back; so afraid that Jared might kill him.

"Blake," Cally asked. "How did this happen?"

Blake shook his head. "Don't know," he mumbled. "I was stunned. I came to and Avon and Roxane were...."

"Roxane?!" Vila cried out, shaking.

"You've met her?" Blake inquired, looking at him curiously.

Vila nodded. "Sort of. She...she tried to get the Saluccian Unit Leader to kill me. You sure she's on our side?"

Blake was puzzled by Vila's statement. "I hope so. She saved our lives."

"Oh." And Vila would say no more.

When Avon opened his eyes, he found himself lying on a med couch with Cally standing on one side and Blake, looking worried, on the other.

"What happened?" he asked, confused.

"You passed out at the teleport station," Gan explained matter-of-factly. "Lost a bit too much blood, I expect."

Avon tried to sit up, but Cally shoved him back down. "Oh, no, you don't. Not until I've checked a few things."

He glared at her. "I feel perfectly all right, Cally," he lied. His arm throbbed terribly and he felt so lightheaded he wasn't sure if he could walk, but he was definitely not going to stay here and be fussed over. "Now let me up."

"Do you know you sound just like Vila?" Blake teased. Both Avon and Vila looked insulted.

"I resent that," Vila snapped.

"As do I," Avon agreed. "Vila's attempts at an intelligent conversation would be better served in talking to an aborigine."

"Get him out of here!" Vila shouted. "I'm a sick man. I need peace and quiet."

"I was just leaving," Blake said, excusing himself. Gan had already departed. But just before the rebel leader slipped through the door, he murmured, "Cally, can I see you for a moment?"

The Auron nodded, giving each of her patients a deep frown. "You will stay put until I get back." It was clearly an order.

"Hey, wait," Vila cried. "Don't leave me alone with him." The door closed behind her and silence descended in the room.

"Does it hurt very much?" Vila ventured to ask.

"That is a stupid question," Avon snapped back. "Did your back 'hurt very much'?"

"I...I'm sorry, Avon. I was only wondering."

Vila was plainly worried about him, so after a few moments Avon relented and said, "It hurts a little, Vila. Stings more than anything else."

"I'm glad you're all right." Vila got a mischievous grin on his face. "Blake said it took you three minutes to open the vault."

"Yes."

"Three whole minutes," Vila crowed. "I bet I could have opened it in three seconds."

"By bragging no doubt," Avon returned and sat up.

"Where do you think you're going?" Vila asked.

"To my cabin. I've had enough of your mindless chattering for the day."

Vila watched as Avon got to his feet, swaying a bit. "Avon, I don't think..."

"Of course, you don't." With that, he stiffened his back and walked slowly from the room.

#

Avon was still shaking with shock and weak from the blood loss, but he managed to make it to his cabin without incident, collapsing into the chair next to his desk. He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax.

An hour went by, then two. No one intruded on his solitude, not even Cally. It made Avon feel uneasy. Only Blake could have prevented her from checking up on him. Had he overheard the conversation between Jared and himself? No, surely not. Blake had been stunned then and they had been speaking very softly.

His arm ached and Avon felt very tired, but there was something he still had to do. He leaned forward, pleased that the lightheadedness he'd experienced earlier was gone now, and opened the middle drawer of his desk. A Saluccian knife lay within. Jared's knife, he corrected himself. He took it out and studied it. Beautiful and yet so deadly.

He leaned forward again, this time opening the bottommost drawer. He withdrew from it a picture, something no one on board even knew he had. He had kept it with him since his trial. It had been taken at an outing five years before, celebrating Avon's new position as Vice President of Accounts for the Central Federation Banking Facility.

Jared had his arm about Avon's shoulders, smiling down with pride at his little brother. Tears welled up in Avon's eyes. He tried to force them away, but they would not go. The grief pent up for so long finally broke free and he cried. Cried as he had not done for a very long time.

#

Outside in the corridor, Cally kept watch, making sure that Avon would not be disturbed. As she watched, her mind went back to the conversation she'd had a few hours earlier.

Cally had been furious when she came back and found Avon gone, but Vila had pleaded with her to let him alone.

"He needs time, that's all, Cally," Vila had insisted. "I saw him when he left. A little shaky on his feet, but otherwise he seemed all right. You know how Avon keeps things bottled up. He needs time to sort them out." At her doubtful expression, he added, "Please, Cally, I know I'm right about this."

The Auron regarded him for a moment, then nodded. "I will do as you ask." She patted Vila's shoulder gently and said. "Now, you must rest."

Satisfied, Vila sighed. "I will."

Cally stayed in the medical unit until she was sure Vila was asleep, then slipped from the room. Maybe I should make sure Avon is not disturbed," she murmured to herself, and here she was.

#

Sometime later, Blake stopped by the medical unit on the way to his cabin. Finding Vila asleep and Avon missing, he headed straight for Avon's quarters only to find Cally standing guard outside.

"Is he in there?" Blake asked quietly.

"Yes," she answered.

"Good, then I'll just go in to make sure he's all right." He started forward only to be stopped by Cally.

"I think he prefers to be alone right now," Cally told him.

Blake looked at her questioningly. "He _is_ all right?" he inquired.

"Yes, but Vila said he thought it would be better if Avon were left alone for a while."

" _Vila_ said?" Blake looked surprised.

Cally looked at him closely. "When was the last time you slept, Blake?"

"I don't recall," he confessed.

"Well, I do," Cally scolded. "Off to your cabin this instant. You're asleep on your feet."

Blake smiled at her. "I'm all right, Cally."

"Not when you're leaning like that." Cally's forehead wrinkled in concern. Blake did not look well; he was still too pale. "I think maybe you'd better come down to the medical unit and let me run a few tests."

"I'm perfectly all right," Blake shot back.

"Don't you turn 'Avon' on me, Roj Blake," she snapped, keeping her voice low. "Now march."

There was no arguing with Cally in that tone and Blake meekly gave in and followed her to the medical unit. Vila was fast asleep and so was Blake a few minutes after stretching out on the other med couch.

#

All Avon's tears were now spent and he resumed a sense of normalcy. He looked at his brother's picture and it brought no more tears, just a lingering void in his life. He had consigned Jared to death once before; now he would do it again.

He wrapped both the picture and the Saluccian knife in a long black silk handkerchief. A gift from Anna. It was somehow fitting that her gift should be used as the shroud for his brother. He had loved them both so much and now they were both gone.

#

Cally sensed rather than heard the footsteps coming toward the door and slipped quietly behind one of the ship's support beams which ribbed the corridor housing the crew quarters. The door slid open and Avon walked out of his room, a small black package pressed tightly to his breast. Unsure what to do, Cally decided to follow him.

The computer expert descended into the lower sections of the ship and Cally started to worry. Where was Avon going? And what was that he was carrying? She began to wonder if maybe she should have called Blake. Then she remembered. Blake was asleep in the medical unit.

Avon stopped. One of the ship's several airlocks lay ahead of him and he walked calmly to it and opened the door. He entered and, for one terrifying moment, Cally thought he meant to kill himself. Then he came back out empty-handed and sealed the chamber.

#

Avon stared through the viewplate at the small parcel lying on the floor within the airlock. His whole life lay there, waiting for consignment to the oblivion of space. Anna Grant, the woman he loved, and Jared, his brother. Both were dead now...dead because of him. Anna, because she had loved him, and Jared...Jared, because he had felt betrayed.

He turned his face away as tears began gathering in his eyes. His hand flew out, striking the outer hatch release button and the package was sucked out into the void of space.

#

On the flight deck, Jenna noted a flashing light on her console. One of the airlocks had been activated. "Gan, I'm getting a reading of an airlock being opened on Level 7."

Gan stood up and walked over to her. "There's no one down there, Jenna. It must be a malfunction." He brought his fist down firmly on her console. The light went off. "See?" he said grinning. "Just needs the right touch, that's all." She laughed and settled back in her seat.

#

Avon watched silently as the outer hatch closed. Then he turned around and re-entered the passage which led to his quarters.

Cally watched him pass, from her hiding place. _Humans are very complex at times,_ she thought. _Very complex indeed._ Still, she had thought she knew those around her. Obviously, she had been wrong.

Keeping her distance, she made sure Avon went back to his room, then hurried off to the medical unit to check on Blake and Vila.

#

The rebel leader was sound asleep, snoring softly--but too loudly for Vila who claimed to be unable to sleep through "that racket."

"Can't you make him stop that?" he complained.

"He is very tired, Vila. You must try to understand. Blake has not slept for a long time."

"Neither have I," Vila shot back irritably. Then he amended his statement. "At least, not comfortably."

"I know," Cally soothed, patting his hand. "Your fever's broken now. By tomorrow, you should be able to get up for limited periods." She added mischievously, "Maybe even do a little work."

"Work!" he exclaimed and she hushed him, pointing to Blake.

"Yes, work."

Changing the subject, Vila grew serious. "Have you seen Avon?"

Cally hesitated. "Yes."

"And?"

The Auron looked at him uncertainly for a moment, then said, "I'm not sure." And she told him what she had seen.

Vila nodded slowly. "Yes, I see what you mean."

"Humans are very puzzling at times. On Auron, when we lose someone, we mourn their passing, yes, but in a very different way. We hold a feast for them and exchange memories. Death is not so solemn a thing."

"A long time ago on Earth, some people used to do that," Vila said. "Called them wakes or something like that. Sometimes people got falling down drunk, toasting the deceased, but it seemed to ease the family's pain." But Avon had no more family, Vila reminded himself grimly.

Cally nodded in understanding. "Then you think whatever was in that package had to do with his brother?"

"I think so. But I can't be sure. Avon's a very hard person to read when he wants to be."

"Oh, I don't know," Cally said with a smile. "I think you can be, too, when you wish to be."

Vila looked uncomfortable as if she had discovered some buried secret of his. "I kind of think maybe he was saying good-bye to Jared. You know--getting rid of everything that reminded him of his brother."

"Is it normal for humans to do this?" she inquired.

"For some humans, yes. I don't think I would want to be reminded of anyone who wanted to kill me. Would you?" Vila asked.

"No," Cally conceded. "Anyway, I followed him back to make sure he got to his room. He seemed tired, but that was all."

"Then let's hope that puts an end to it," Vila told her, earnestly hoping that it would. "Avon's hard enough to handle without anything complicating matters."

A loud snore interrupted their conversation as Blake turned over in his sleep to face Vila. "Cally, can't I get up now?" Vila pleaded. "I can't go back to sleep here..."

"Yes, you can." The Auron flashed him a smile. "I could fix you something if you like?" she offered.

"A glass of scotch?" Vila inquired, hopefully.

"Hmmm." She eyed him carefully. "I might allow one. But that's all."

"One will be fine," he replied happily. "I've an unopened bottle in my closet. Top shelf."

Cally nodded. "All right; I'll be right back."

#

A few minutes later, she re-entered the room, carrying a very small glass filled with scotch. "Vila, I have your...." She stopped. Vila was fast asleep, the blanket pulled up over his shoulders as he lay, nestled into the couch.

"So you could not sleep," Cally teased the sleeping thief. Quietly, she set the glass on the counter, dinned the lights, and slipped from the room. Sleep was something Cally could use, too.

#

Blake opened his eyes. He had awakened right after Cally came back from following Avon, but had continued acting as if he were still asleep, even to the point of changing his position so he could hear their conversation better. The uneasiness he felt at deceiving them paled beside what he had learned. Avon's brother? Then the faint voices he thought he had imagined were real. And the dead man on Danmyon was Avon's brother.

But if Avon had known he was there, why had he volunteered to.... Blake pulled himself up short. Avon _never_ volunteered to go anywhere. And that should have alerted him that something was wrong. Blake thought about what happened on Danmyon and the meeting with Roxane. The argument came to mind and he suddenly recalled the startled look she'd given Avon. Of course, she must have seen the resemblance.

Blake sat up slowly on the couch, careful not to make any sudden noises which might awaken the man sleeping next to him. No wonder Vila had been so worried when he saw the blood. Blake smiled slightly. So Vila and Cally were worried about Avon, too.

Blake got to his feet and walked over to the counter where Cally had set Vila's drink. _No sense wasting it,_ he thought to himself and downed it in one gulp. It burned all the way down but Blake didn't mind. It would help him sleep better. He wondered how Avon was bearing up. From what Cally had told Vila, he appeared to be all right, but Blake had to make sure.

With a backward glance at Vila, the rebel leader slipped quietly out of the medical unit and hurried down to Avon's quarters. Cally was no longer on guard duty and the corridor was empty. Avon's door was unlocked and opened at Blake's touch.

Avon was lying on his bunk, sleeping peacefully. Blake sighed in relief, then yawned. _I'd better get back to that couch,_ he thought to himself, _or I might end up lying in a corridor somewhere._

As Blake turned to leave Avon's cabin, the sleeping man rolled over and murmured in a soft, child-like voice, "I love you, Jared."


End file.
